


A personal piece of hell

by Eriathalia



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 22:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriathalia/pseuds/Eriathalia
Summary: They nightmares always came when Crowley was letting his guard down, warping his sweetest dreams until he felt lost and torn apart.Whenever he dared to let his guard down, that little piece of personal hell would show it's ugly face.Aziraphale will not stand for it.





	A personal piece of hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LawrVert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrVert/gifts).

> A small angsty piece I more or less wrote for my partner.
> 
> If you are searching for a lot of smut, turn around now. It's there, but not the main focus of this piece.

It was a nice and sunny day, not too hot, just right for the pleasant picnic the angel had offered all those years ago. Barely a cloud obscured the bright blue sky, the air bearing a slight scent of roses. 

Crowley watched as the angel took a bite of a freshly baked scone, generously coated in clotted cream, some of it getting stuck on his bottom lip. Aziraphale licked it away with a content hum, eyes closed to savour the taste as his face was tilted upwards, the plump cheeks and pointy nose catching the golden sunlight, making him look all the ethereal being he truly was.  
Blue eyes opened, fixing him with a inquisitorial gaze.   
“You’re staring, my dear.” And elegant hand reached out to him, taking a hold of his own and giving it a little tug-  
Crowley went with it willingly, falling against a soft, wide chest as strong arms enveloped him in a gentle embrace.  
Yes, to outsiders he did his best to maintain a sassy, rather nonchalant appearance, but inside he enjoyed the angels nurturing nature, the way the other used to dote on him, filled him with a Sense of finally being safe and wanted.

As he tilted his head up, lush lips met his own, capturing them in a shy kiss which was quickly growing into something more desperate and primal, long fingers tangling in white curls as the demon held on tight to the other.  
Once they broke apart, Crowley's face was flushed, his yellow-golden eyes wide, dilated with a need barely held back.   
Aziraphale smiled, full of understanding and love. It left Crowley speechless. His mouth opened but no more than a quiet whimper would escape his narrow pink lips.

The angel nodded. “I know, my dear.” He leaned in and whispered into the demon’s ear “Let me take care of you.”   
A soft kiss was placed right beneath his ear, that clever tongue lapping at the sensitive skin before following a trail downwards, mapping out the long neck, suckling right at the hollow of his throat as he was pushed back into the grass so very slowly. 

The sudden burst of air against his naked skin left Crowley shivering. Aziraphale had not bothered peeling him out of too many layers of clothing, simply vanishing them altogether instead.   
Not that he minded it too much as a plump body pressed up right to his own, slipping between his readily spreading thighs.

“Angel...” Crowley moaned, legs winding around curvy hips, his heels digging into ample buttocks.   
“Love me Angel” he gasped as he felt the others arousal heavy and straining against his thigh. His hips bucked, creating some delicious friction, and how he loved his angel’s face lighting up as a silent gasp left his throat.  
“Now Angel, please” he felt his aloof demeanor slipping away, making way for something far more timid and lost. His hands reached up, cupped that beautiful round face in his palms, beckoning the others eyes to meet his own, pleading ones.  
Aziraphale bent down once more to kiss his demon’s forehead.  
“Anything you want my dear.” The angel’s fingers wandered across Crowley’s skinny chest, almost able to count the ribs poking out from beneath pale skin. As they reached their destination, they found him ready and waiting.  
“So impatient” he mumbled as he lined himself up, entering him in one smooth, slow motion until he was settled to the hilt.  
The long legs around his waist twitched, one almost slipping to the ground, but the angel caught it, holding it in place as he settled down on top of the other, rounded stomach squeezed up against it’s flat counterpart.  
“Move...please angel” Crowley whispered, hips bucking up again to press him on.   
Aziraphale chuckled and gave a first, light thrust. It was still enough to make Crowley throw his head back, a strangled moan escaping him, soon turning into a streak of whimpers as the angel set a languid rhythm. It did not take too long for Crowley to reach his breaking point. He came with a strangled cry, arms and legs clutching the warm body above him, muscles clenching around the hot flesh still buried deep inside him. He felt whole, protected as the sturdy frame covered his own lithe one like a thick blanket, shielding him from the world, for once allowing him to let his guard down, just feel at home. It was what he had dreamed of since all this time back in Eden and then so much more. 

As he relaxed he smiled up at his angel tentatively, a confession of love and devotion right in the tip of his tongue, but his face fell immediately. The eyes staring back down at him possessed nothing of the warmth they usually held, instead glaring cold as ice, the usually softly curved mouth contorted in an annoyed sneer.   
Crowley shyed back, in an attempt to curl in on himself, drawing his legs up towards his chest once the other had disentangled his body from the demon's long limbs, sitting back with his arms crossed, expression changing from a sneer to pure disgust.  
The air had turned cold, the blue sky giving way to a black, starless night. It made Crowley shiver more violently, limbs bending further in hopes of making himself look even smaller. It was all so wrong. He could not help the panic rising inside, causing his chest to constrict until he felt like suffocating despite having no need for air.

“Did you really think I could love you, little snake?” The voice was flat, dripping with disdain. Crowley dared not to look up, eyes squeezed shut tightly, the angel’s words cutting like daggers, deeper and deeper until they reached his very core, snuffing out the little flicker of hope that he had hidden and kept save from prying eyes.   
“Do you believe yourself worthy of it, hm?” A firm hand gripped his chin. “Look at me little snake.” Crowley shook his head, managed to pry his chin from the merciless grasp. He wanted this to end, wanted to break free of the nightmare. 

They always came, creeping up on him when he was most vulnerable. Each and every time he subconsciously begged that he would be granted some reprieve, that he would be allowed to bask in that tiny piece of happiness this one single time. He never was, the sweet dreams sooner or later ripped apart by his own inability to believe that he was indeed allowed to feel happiness. How? How could he have, the curious one that had fallen from grace, forever to be expunged from heaven? The one too soft one who struggled under the weight of cruelty so proudly displayed as an achievement in hell? He was a disgrace to either side. To think that the angel would ever… A sob wrought itself from his throat, another proof of his weakness. It was answered with laughter which made his blood run cold.   
"Pathetic. No one could ever love you, foul serpent" As strand of hair was brushed from his face, though it was in no way a comforting gesture, instead instilling the fear of turning into a sharp slap or nails scratching his skin, leaving deep red marks. After all, he was not deserving of anything more but pain.

"Crowley…" He heard a voice, so gentle and concerned, breaking through the thick fog clouding his mind.   
Aziraphale, he called out, but the name was swallowed by the darkness.   
“Crowley!” There it was again, that voice, louder and stronger than before. He raised one hand, reaching blindly into the darkness and…

Crowley woke with a start, shirt and boxers sticking to his shivering frame, drenched in sweat. But there was something else, soft and solid at the same time. He shifted, soaked in the warmth of the one cradling him against a wide chest.

“Another dream?” Aziraphale asked quietly, fingers tracing even patterns on the other's back while his nose was buried in flaming red hair, nuzzling in gently in means of calming his partner. He hated the way those nightmares left the usually strong entity a wrecked mess, tossing and turning on the bed, hands aimlessly grasping thin air, begging to be caught, pleading to be anchored back in reality. How many times had the demon cried out for him, beseeching him not to leave, to give him one more chance to prove that he was worthy. Aziraphale needed no such proof, thought his partner perfect in every sense, and yet, no matter how hard he tried to make Crowley believe it, a tiny piece of hell remained inside of him, breaking free from its confines the moment his demon felt at peace, dared to let his guard down. 

Sometimes Aziraphale wondered if it was in fact his fault, his influence who enabled that darkness to surface the moment the other gave in and allowed himself to be happy. He was acutely aware of how desperately Crowley wanted it, wanted to love and be loved in turn. He rarely said so out loud, but the angel had long picked up on the more subtle ways his demon expressed his devotion. It made the gestures all the more meaningful and endearing.

After what had seemed an eternity, Crowley nodded, feeling exhausted, drained of all energy.  
“I’m sorry” The kiss placed on top of his head helped to calm him a little further.  
“Was it-?” Crowley nodded again and the confirmation dug right into the angel's core, the knowledge that it was his face the others subconscious would use to shatter his world to pieces night by night.  
“You know it’s not true.” There was a third nod.   
“I love you Crowley.” the demon raised his head and, being greeted by eyes once more soft like a calm ocean, felt a little smile returning to his own face. 

"Let's get you out of these" Aziraphale tucked on the sweaty shirt. Crowley simply willed it away.   
Almost instinctively the angel drew the light comforter up around him, settled back against the mattress, posing as a soft pillow. His fingers returned to Crowley's hair, carding through it unhurriedly.   
"We will fight them" he mumbled, though his voice was steady and reassuring "they will not win."  
Crowley made a noise which could hardly be deciphered, albeit it barely mattered to the angel as those slender arms wrapped around him, holding on tightly. 

"Angel?" Crowley whispered into the dim light of dawn breaking outside.   
"Yes, my dear?"  
"I love you too."  
Aziraphale's smile widened. Yes, he would never give up until at last his beloved was freed of that piece of hell remaining so firmly wedged inside him. 


End file.
